An Arranged Marriage Of Sorts
by Idiot Jello
Summary: Marriage. I’ve decided it’s a very ugly word. Arranged marriage...to William Darcy. Um, it is still the twenty-first century, right? No time machines…or time warps? Good. COMPLETE
1. Chapter 1

Marriage.

I've decided it's a very ugly word. Pronouncing that _g_ just always makes me shudder. Couldn't they just come up with a prettier word for such an ugly subject? Tone down the brutal repulsiveness with a pleasing-sounding name?

Apparently not.

Wait—I've come up with an even more ugly word, well, phrase.

Arranged marriage.

No, wait, an even _better_ one—

Arranged marriage…to William Darcy.

That's right. Mrs. My-Daughter-Will-Only-Marry-Her-Class (aka, my _mother_) arranged my marriage. Um, it _is_ still the twenty-first century, right? No time machines…or time warps? Good.

Well, no. Not good. Marriage in any way is certainly not good. Hell, I haven't even _met_ the guy. You'd think if any mother was as cruel as to arrange her daughter's marriage she would not be as cruel as to pick someone who the daughter hasn't even ever met.

Again, apparently not.

You'd also wonder why she would pick me to marry Mr. Big-Shot Darcy. Oh yeah…I'm the only single daughter left. Duh. When did I become such a big ditz? And, as for this Darcy choice, money marries money.

We're totally disregarding I got disinherited for getting pregnant when I was 16, and that I've earned _every_ penny in my rather large (if I do say so myself) bank account. That doesn't matter at all.

In any case, Mother and Catherine de Bourgh (aunt of some kind) are introducing us to each other in hour. Mother said casual, didn't she? Yeah! Wait no—formal. No! That wasn't it…Semi-formal. Yes. Well…

0000

"Lizzy! What in God's good name are you wearing?"

I sniffed at Mother. "You know I'm as religious as the notches on my bedpost."

Mother looked thoroughly scandalized. "Lizzy, shut your mouth before someone hears!" It's not like that nearly screaming doesn't draw attention. I'm just glad we're outside the restaurant.

"We're part of the Darcy party," Mother proudly informs the little guy at the little desk. What are those called again? Why is it that whenever I need brains elementary school disappears in my mind and all I can think about is whether or not my foot would taste good with salt?

Are you just as confused and mildly disgusted as I am? Good.

As the waitress lead us to our designated table, I hear clips of conversations around me.

"Did you hear about poor Anne Elliot? That Wentworth fellow, was it, appearing in her life all over again? I feel for her, I do."

"So Miss Emma Woodhouse is finally settling down. Such a pretty, popular, young lady. Let's hope the Knightly fellow is a good lad."

I chuckled. High-class folk always sound like they're in the nineteenth century. I continue listening.

"You know aunt, I strongly object to this whole affair." Ooh. Perty voice.

"I know, dear."

"I mean, you've stripped me of my right to have a love life."

"I'm sorry, dear."

"And now I stuck to this pitiful little Elizabeth girl. She probably doesn't even know what pi is. You know these wanna-be rich girls, aunt. Not a brain in them. She'll just fawn over me like I'm the _dearest_ little thing and then suspect me to pay for everything and anything—like she doesn't have nay money of her own. And I'll be stuck to her! Stuck to a stupid, idiotic, ugly, ditz."

A _stupid ugly ditz_? Why—I tapped him on the shoulder, and he turned around in his seat.

Oh God. He's hot. Why do the hot ones always have to hate me? Eh, doesn't matter. He's a jerk.

"William Darcy, right?" I smirked at his nod, complete with an eyebrow raise and perhaps a 'what-the-hell-are-you-here-for-crazy-person' look. "Elizabeth Bennet," extending my hand for him to shake, "stupid, idiotic, ugly ditz at your service. Please excuse me if I'm a bit out of it. I had my brain removed last Friday. Pi is, still, as a rounded number, 3.14, right?" I smiled bitterly at his astonished face.

"Yes," he responded lamely. Ha. I left Mr. Big Shot Arrogant Walrus Jerk speechless.

"Hello Catherine, William." Do you think the death glare Mother is sending me means to shut up?

"Hello Francis. Please sit down." Catherine motioned to the two vacant chairs. Mother took the one next to Catherine. Great, now I have to sit next to the walrus. "So Elizabeth…" Catherine began again, a bit awkwardly.

"Lizzy. Everybody calls me Lizzy."

"A bit childish nickname, right?" I glared at Walrus warily.

"No," I said slowly, "If you mean that I feel like I'm being reduced to a child when some calls me that. But yes, if you imply that I am reminded of my childhood when people call me Lizzy. My childhood was so very wonderful when I wasn't getting arrested for one thing or another."

"Lizzy!"

"Of course," I continued without glancing at Mother, "Maybe getting into 'real trouble' has taught me a lesson to never to do my science experiment on how many sticks of dynamite it would take to blow up a parking lot." I clucked my tongue sadly, "So many lawsuits, so little time to beat their crappy lawyers."

"In fact," I exclaimed standing up eagerly, "I think I have a appointment right _now_ with my lawyer. I'll be back, let's say, _never_, kay?"

"Lizzy," Catherine said firmly, before I could go, and I saw an evil flash in her eyes, "What a _interesting_ dress code you seem to be following."

Dress code? I looked down at my clothes. A sort of coffee-beany colored shirt stating (what else) 'I LOVE COFFEE', faded jeans, my big black boots (which make me feel like Paul Bunyan whenever I were them) and um…my hair was in a ponytail. No makeup. Crap, Walrus is wearing a suite, and Mother and Catherine dresses and CRAP. It's formal.

Yeah, I _JUST _figured that out. Snicker all you want.

Evil Walrus man is chuckling. Catherine gives me a tight smile, and Mother has now developed a new habit of glaring at me. Maybe she's trying to kill me with 'looks' And if looks could kill…well, I would have a pretty gory death.

"Elizabeth," I snapped my head toward Walrus man and gave him a death glare, "What do you _do_ for a living?" Oh my god. Did he just imply—"That is, if you actually have one." He freaking did! William Darcy implied that I, Elizabeth Bennet, a founder of Bennet, Gardiner, and Lucas, did not have a job!

"I'm like a lawyer." I said simply.

"Like? Not a real one?" Walrus man asked, doubtful.

"If you say so."

"By that logic I can assume you do whatever I say you to do for a living." He smiled challenging at me.

"Then what _do_ I do, Mr. Darcy?" I asked, raising an eyebrow.

"How would I know, _Miss Bennet_, I can only imagine."

Crap. He got me there. "Ever heard of Bennet, Gardiner, and Lucas?"

"That Bennet?" He said dumbly. I rolled my eyes. Yes, that Bennet little boy. Now go off and play with your big toys. Little boy Walrus closed his mouth after that, eyeing me warily like I would bite him and give him rabies or something. God, stop treating like I'm a bum or something. I may _look_ middle class, but guess what, Mr. Fancy Smance Walrus Boy, I'm _not._

Needless to add, dinner was a somewhat strained affair.

0000

_So, NO this isn't another story. I wrote this about five months ago when I was on sugar high and it was 3 am. I think you can tell. I post it purely for laughs because when I reread it I suddenly remember how weird I get if I'm on sugar high. Like comparing Darcy to a Walrus._

_Becca_


	2. Chapter 2

"This isn't a good idea." I say, in one last fruitless effort. Jane Gardiner may be kind, gentle, and sweet-tempered, but boy can she hold herself in an argument.

"It's too late now, Lizzy. You said you wanted to get your mind off this whole business of Mother's, and now I'm taking you out to meet Charlie's friend whether you like it or not." Jane says, decisive. I swear she's some sort of evil mastermind sometimes. I am certain she has the sinister plan behind that sweet face of hers. "I'm sure you'll like him," she says, her tone kinder than before, "Charlie says he's tall, dark and handsome. Sort of quiet, though."

I sigh. A long sigh. I really didn't want to meet one of Jane's husband's friends that would be 'absolutely perfect' for me. But I follow Jane out of our company door and sit in the car to drive to the Starbucks of my doom. I have to remind myself over and over again that I am strong enough to face the music.

When we walk through the door I see the smiling face of Charlie. I smile, too, cause, well it's polite. What did you _think_ I was smiling for? Jane and I walk over to his table and he says, "Hi. Will's not here yet." He kisses Jane on the cheek. "I was just going to buy something. Do you guys want anything?" Hmm…I have already had my lunch…but its _Starbucks._ Eh. I'm not hungry. I shake my head, but Jane goes with Charlie to the register.

Charlie instructs me to pick a table. I walk over to one by a window.

I like windows. They're distractions. If you want to get out of answering a question, look out a window. If you want to avoid the awkward silence, look out a window. If you're bored but feel like you shouldn't be, look out a window. Windows are just freaking awesome.

"Excuse me? Are you Jane's cousin?" I look up. It's Walrus man! What? How? Why? He looks as equally shocked as I am. I mean, it's not everyday you have a blind date with the stupid, idiotic ditz you're marrying against your will.

However, he recovers, and his expression is as it was that one night.

"Fancy meeting you here." Sarcasm is a deadly weapon. Watching your victims while using it is a satisfying experience, if their not impassive…Damn.

"You still haven't answered my question." He informs me. Oh, how helpful of the Walrus, making sure my manners existed! Well, if he wants to pretend that nothing has happened, then so be it!

"Yes, I'm Jane's cousin." I tilt my head. "I assume you're Charlie's friend?" He only bestows a brief nod upon me. Proud man and his evil plan. "I will inform you that this meeting is completely against my will and means nothing. Jane just wants me to ease all my 'stress'," I use air quotations, "I'm getting married."

He is unfazed. Stupid Walrus. "It is rather scandalous you dating another man while engaged." Okay, does he have amnesia or something? I mean, seriously, he acts as if he has no idea what happened a few days ago!

I would have you know that this is a momentary thought, and I reply, without missing a beat (because this song is too precious to ruin), "I doubt my betrothed would mind. I believe I'm more of a nuisance to him than a person."

"How interesting."

I would be angry with him for his impassive response, but I had noticed the strange look that was in his eyes before he recovered. Hmm. Wonder if he's an alien.

0000

The calm before the storm.

"He's the man I'm going to marry."

"What?" Jane looks and me, and the car swerves. Her eyes go back on the road, but she frequently glances back at me. Perhaps telling her in the car was not my best idea.

Through the half hour were at the same table the Walrus and I managed to not reveal prior connection for our friend and sister's sake. I suppose we both didn't want to make loved ones awkward. Well, I didn't want to make Jane or Charlie be awkward. I doubt a walrus has the capacity to love as a human would.

"Will…Will's going to be your husband? Will's the guy who called you a—"

"Jane!" I cut her off. I didn't really need to take more Tylenol than I usually did for certain other people's rants. "It's okay. You didn't know."

She looked as if she wanted to protest, but I knew that she knew that I knew that she knew that I was right…I think.

Jane sighed, and continued to drive us back to our building.

0000

Let's weigh the pros and cons, shall we?

**Cons:**

**1.** I'm sleepy.

**2.** I don't want to get up.

**3.** Answering the phone would resemble socializing.

**4.** I would have to pretend I didn't just doze off in the middle of _House, MD._

**5.** It might be someone icky on the phone.

**Pros: **

**1.** If it's my mother, and I don't answer, I'll be sorry in the morning.

Uh…

This is a lose-lose situation, isn't it?

I answer the phone anyway. "Hello?"

"_Elizabeth._" Crap. It is an icky person.

I don't try to hide my sigh before I respond, "Darcy." The line is silent for a few, long moments. "So…" I talk awkwardly into the phone. "Was your whole point in calling me was to confirm that we knew each others names before we were married?"

"_Why do you always fling that into my face?_"

"What do you mean?"

"_You're constantly reminding me we're getting married." _Oh? Is that how it is? Mr. High-And-Mighty does regard me as a pest, an obligatory person to pay attention to, no matter how repulsive I am! He, the gentleman he is, is kindly letting me know that he _does not_ recognize me as someone of merit, and I shouldn't get my hopes up of being treated civilly. Helpful man.

"I see." Is all a can manage.

I hear him sigh on the other end. I look longingly at the phone's cradle. All my troubles would be solved, at least, temporarily, if I hung up.

I ask, "Would you be greatly offended if I just hung up and never spoke to you again?"

"_Would you?_"

Somehow this makes me furious. I slam the phone into the cradle.

This music isn't so bearable as I thought.


	3. Chapter 3

Oh no.

This…this brings our situation to a whole new level.

Mr. Darcy, whoever unpleasant and disliked, was not going so low as to remind me of Wilbur Collins?

Apparently so.

He had called me twice this week, aside from the first time, when I was a work, leaving awkward messages. I could've dubbed it cute had it been any other person…even Wilbur Collins, I suppose. _He_ called me every _day_, explaining his utter heartbreak for me. Yes…it was on the borderline of extremely creepy, amusing, and cute.

So that's why I'm cringing more than usual when I hear his voice on the other end of the line.

"Why do you keep calling me?" Hmm. I didn't say hello…

"_I feel that I ought to get to know you._" He doesn't seem to care that much.

"The word 'ought' implies you secretly don't want to have anything to do with me. Well, I don't 'ought' anything. I hate the fact that I know you. So now we have established that we equally dislike each other and it is pointless to try to amend what can't be…amound."

He was silent. Then he said, "_Amound isn't a word._"

"You think that I don't know that?!"

He sighs. Why does everyone sigh so much when I'm talking to them?

"_Please, Elizabeth?_" Please? Has that word come out of his mouth before? It's shocking. Just shocking.

"You're a very smart Walrus." I begin.

"_What?_"

"Don't interrupt me," I scold him. "And I suppose since you used the magic word—"

"_Please?_"

"What do you think? Platypus?"

Hm…he's not answering. Is he really as stupid as he is arrogant? I really hope he is. There's nothing I detest more than a guy who is intelligent and knows it.

"That wasn't a rhetorical question." I inform him.

"_Oh."_ How eloquent.

"As I was saying before I was so rudely interrupted multiple times—" Ignore the snort, Lizzy! Ignore it! "Since you said please, I will allow you to attempt to have an actual intellectual conversation with me."

"_How thrilling. I suppose I should be eternally grateful?"_

I think I'll humor him.

"You may commence bowing to my awesomeness right…about… now."

I hope someone notes I managed to say this without laughing at the irony. After all, Mr. Proud-And-Haughty-Wins-The-Lottery-Not-That-I-Need-To-I'm-So-Rich is implying that I think that a person should be 'eternally grateful' (his words, not mine) when I talk to them.

"_You realize you have no enforcement over this. I'm on the other side of the city."_

"I hope you realize that you can take no satisfaction in seeing me flustered because, as you have pointed out so helpfully earlier, we're on opposite sides of the city. So either you are intentionally suggesting that I'm stupid enough to believe I can see you by talking to you on the phone, or…Actually, that's the only thing you could be suggesting."

I smirk at the silence on the other end. Thank you, thank you! Was it so hard to render the Walrus speechless with my unwavering wit? Oh no, not at all! He is a bit of a weakling, now that I think about it. He may have a strong build, but he's not very strong in the head, if you catch my—

"_Does this count as our intellectual conversation?_"

Damn him! He's so good-looking, so smart, so quick-witted, so perfect in every way! And it doesn't even matter that he's an ass, 'cause no one will acknowledge it but me. Not even Jane, who's always been on my side.

Every time I try to bring him down a few notches, he doesn't budge a bit. And with every time I fail, his ego becomes bigger. With the rate it's going his stupid, gorgeous head will be deformed from containing all the ego…ness.

Crap. Now's he's stole my wit, too.

"Yes." I say in a voice that surprises me with its coldness.

"_Wait! Elizabeth—"_

I hang up without saying goodbye. I didn't say hello, after all.

0000

I have never though the office as a 'safe haven' since…never. I could laugh at Wilbur Collin's stupidity, but I cannot laugh at Darcy's arrogance. Or forgive it, really. I could've forgiven his pride, if he hadn't wounded mine.

But here I am in, sitting in my desk swivel-chair (Boy do I love those things), feeling very…safe. It's sad, really. Every night I get to look forward to a relaxing evening with the TV tuned on to my favorite shows, a hot cup of coffee, some paperwork that in the end be done in a hurry the following morning, and at least one long, awkward message from the Walrus making an ass out of himself.

Boy do I love swivel chairs.

"Feeling down, Miss Bennet?" I look up to see my assistant, George.

Have you ever had a really, really bad day and then someone breezes in all happy and cheery and full of sunshine (Yes I cringed as that came out of my mouth).

"Do something for me, will you, George?"

He nods eagerly.

"Go die in a ditch and don't come back until you feel as crappy as I do."

Stupid man doesn't seem that deflated.

"Feeling down, Miss Bennet?"

0000

"You know Mom, now isn't the time to suddenly be beset with guilt." I sigh into my desk phone. You know, today would've been just a bad day by itself if Mother called.

'But the stress of my modern day office has induced me to go into depression.'

Hmm. Quoting the Office now. Interesting. Of course, it's more like the stress of my time-warped love life has induced me to go into a state of 'This sucks like lollipops without the sugar'.

"_But Catherine and I haven't even signed the papers, really. We were—"_

Wait! What?

"You haven't signed any papers?" I ask slowly.

"_No, we were just contemplating it…Catherine and I thought if we pushed you in the right direction with a sense of duty, you'd fall in love with each other."_

I'm free! Free, free, free from the Walrus! I don't have to look at him or talk to him or marry him or anything!

"Mom," I say excitedly, "Don't, on any circumstance, sign anything Catherine may shove below your nose!"

"_Well, okay. But what about William? Won't he be disappointed?" _

I snort.

"Darcy? Mother, he doesn't care a fig for me. The only reason he was actually talking to me was that he was battered into it. Remember, I'm the stupid, idiotic ditz."

"Miss Bennet?" I look up to see George. "William Darcy here to see you."

**A/N: And so I leave you with a cliffhanger. Or, sort of one.**

**Haha, Proud-And-Haughty-Wins-The-Lottery.**

**Tell me what you think in REVIEWS.**


	4. Chapter 4

He's watching me.

Not saying anything, mind you, just _watching_.

To tell you the truth, it's really creeping me out. I mean, it's like he's a stalker.

Or maybe he's in a trance.

What entranced him? I mean, I'm certainly not pretty…at all…

"Mr. Darcy, I'm afraid I don't have time for a staring contest in my schedule."

He colors. "Yes."

Is that all he's going to say? I arch a brow.

"I…" He hesitates, "I was going to ask you out." I raise both eyebrows.

"For dinner." He explains, as if that actually explained anything.

Ok. I have to set him straight. 'Cause, c'mon, I _know_ that he despises me as I do him, and it's only fair that he should know that we should never have to see each other again. Right? It's being a decent person. It's humanity, per say. Right! So now I have to do is open my mouth and tell him G-O-O-D-B-Y-E!

"What restaurant did you have in mind?"

Treason! Good Lord, treason! My lips are such traitors.

His face brightens, he names a place that's vaguely familiar, and we suffer another awkward silence.

Then, "Goodbye."

I watch him leave feeling very much like a heartless bitch.

0000

I shouldn't be here. I shouldn't be here.

Sure, I may belong in this fancy-schmancy restaurant, me and my over three hundred dollar dress, but I shouldn't be here. Period.

A mistake. A big mistake.

I've lied to him. Lied. I don't lie, not like this. Before you know, I'd lied when I said I killed by elementary best friend's goldfish, and maybe when I stole that car, but never like this.

I didn't tell him we didn't have to marry. He's forcing himself in my company for nothing. Oh god, I'm such a witch!

"Sorry I'm late." He sits down at our table. I speak, not really hearing what I'm saying.

"Did you just call me a walrus again?"

I glare at him. "And what if I did?"

He smirks. "Then I'd have to find a pet name for you of my own."

"It is not a pet name!" I say hotly. He remains unfazed, smiling that gorgeous smug smile of his.

Idiot.

Well, he's an idiot, too, but I was talking about me. I mean, I don't have the courage to talk to him about us. And I know it, and I am _still_ not doing anything!

Idiot.

The waiter appears at our table, scribbles down our order, and hops back off.

Maybe if I keep my eyes glued to the menu I won't have to talk to him.

"How was your day at the office?"

Damn. Why does he have to initiate conversation now? Why can't he go back to insulting me but not saying a word afterwards?

"Fine."

His smile falters, and I quickly look back down at the desert menu, feeling his eyes on me.

"Um, Elizabeth…" Darcy begins.

"Oh, yay!" I cry, suddenly exuberant. It would be amusing if it wasn't happening to me. "The food's here."

He looks at me funny, and I shrug. Then the waiter places the platter in front of Darcy, distracting him from continuing the conversation.

We eat in relative silence, but when we do speak, I find myself laughing, not at the Walrus, but with the man who I despised a few hours ago.

It's all so wrong. No, actually, not wrong; just different. I wonder, rather than know, if I like it.

He pays the bill, ignoring my attempts to stop him.

"You asked me out, it's the least I can do to pay for it!" I exclaim.

"You say that as if I am lowering myself by dating you."

I feel the familiar indignant wave rush over me. "Aren't you?" I mutter, but he hears me anyway, and glances at me with such a hurt expression I cringe.

Damn. Why am I so mean?

Perhaps now is another chance to set him straight.

"Um," I say as he looks over the receipt, "Do you know we don't actually have to get married?"

"Yes."

Again with the one syllable answers.

He calls his driver (Stupid rich guy…ness) and the car is there in record time.

"Dude, is your driver like Edward Cullen?" I mean, I bet Edward Cullen could pick up a car and run here even faster than that guy could've driven here.

"What?" He looks at me, confused.

"You obviously are not a female." I sniff, stepping into the sleek vehicle.

"I was wondering when you would figure that out."

"What?" I stare at him incredulously. "You realize that implies so many—"

"Yeah," he cuts me off, "Stupid come back."

"I'm glad you acknowledge your lack of conversational skills."

"Not really a conversation."

I'm getting the feeling he's only saying that to provoke me.

The car stops in front of my apartment, and I get out. Hmm. I didn't say goodbye. Now I'm losing my conversational skills.

I turn around, and promptly jumped three inches.

He standing so _close_, so close it's making me dizzy. I stare into his piercing green eyes, gasping.

Darcy's face looms towards me, his eyes closing.

_No! NO!_ My mind screams as I feel his lips upon mine. But bloody hell, he _does_ know how to kiss. So I ignore my brain.

One dreadful mistake after another.

I break away, staring at my shoes. "Go home, Will."

"W-What?" He stutters, confused. "I thought—"

"You thought wrong." I finally meet his gaze, and flinch at what I see there.

* * *

**Yeah, um, very short, sort of crappy chapter. But I feel guilty for not posting anything for a while so..yeah.**

**I don't intend this piece on being any longer than ten chapters, if even that. So yeah...that's why things are kind of rushing.**

**Hate it? Love it? Indigistion? Tell me in REVIEWS!!**

**Becca**


	5. Chapter 5

**Two Months Later**

I quite like trains. I mean, almost anybody can afford a pass, so you meet all kinds of characters there. Sure, you can also do that on planes, but it's not quite as extensive. And planes and airline food scare me, so…

I'm on a train to the country to visit my newly married friend Charlotte Lucas, or should I say, Charlotte Lucas-Collins. After the visit, she and her new husband are driving up back to the city so Charlotte can work.

Yes, Charlotte married Wilbur Collins. Insanity, right? Fortunately, I'd already concluded long ago the Charlotte's state of mind wasn't anything close to sane.

Wilbur heartily disapproved of Charlotte actually working. He has this weird old-fashioned belief that wives should be, and nothing more, housewives and the husband should bring in the money. Stupid, narrow-minded man. But Char won in the end.

Charlotte told me she was engaged the day after my date with _him_. I about lost it, but she just told me to stop screaming and accept it. And I did, eventually.

But it awhile to stop screaming. And not all of it was about the engagement.

_I wonder how I ever thought that Will could be impassive. I mean, emotion was right there, clear for anyone to see, on his face. Confusion…pain…anger…_

"_Is that it?" He asks crossly, and I wince, but make no response as I lower my eyes again. "Can you just explain?" _

"_No," I say, not looking at him._

"_Elizabeth." He says firmly. I refuse to look up, so he hooks two fingers under my chin and tilts my face up. "Please?" He whispers._

_I take a deep breath. "From the first moment I met you, you took no trouble to, well, not act like an ass! And every moment of everything minute I'm with you, your manners prove to me what I first thought of you the night in the restaurant." _

_I can see the hurt on his face, but I'm too fired up to pity him. He doesn't deserve it. "You're vain and arrogant! You have no compassion for the feelings of others! You're just a jerk!"_

_I take one step close to him. "I _**hate**_ you, and there's a snowball's chance in hell that I'd _**ever** _agree to have any sort of relationship with you."_

_I turn back and enter my building, not wanting to know his reaction._

I sigh and look out the window. Ooh, a cow.

Just then someone raises his voice from behind me. You'd think people would have more common sense. If you raise your voice in a public area, and average human is bound to eavesdrop. And I don't claim to be from Mars.

"Shut your mouth, Richard!"

Well, that was very subtle. He has a pretty voice, though.

"I'm only stating the truth. You _luuuuuurrve_ her, I know it!"

That was a new voice.

"You haven't even _met_ her," said the first voice.

"No, but I've heard the way you talk about her. By the way, what's with the emo-ness lately? I don't think Aunt Cat would approve."

"She doesn't like me."

"_Really?_" I let out a laugh at the mocking edge to Richard's tone. "Has the great William Darcy been rejected?"

My laugh dies a bloody death.

I freeze and stare, bewildered, at the seat in front of me, but can't stop myself from listening some more.

"As I said, shut up, Richard." I hear him say.

"Just a bit too defensive there, buddy." Richard quips.

"Please, I heard the girl in front of us laugh. Lower your voice."

"There's a _girl_ in front of us?" Despite myself, my shoulders shake as I smother my giggles.

"Either that or that guy has a very feminine laugh."

"Hello there." I start and look up to see a mousy-haired guy with moderately handsome features smiling at me from the aisle. "I'm Richard, and my cousin here says you've been listening to our conversation and find it rather humorous. Is this so?"

"It is so." I say, flashing him a smirk.

"Aw, Will, this girl's cute! Come and say hi!" Richard looks at his cousin that's behind me.

I gather my courage to speak. "We've already met," I say, and I turn and prop myself up to look at him, unsmiling.

His eyes widen in recognition, and then his face hardens into the familiar impassiveness.

All courage I may have summoned went down the drain and I froze.

"Elizabeth." He nods.

I am unable to respond, and merely turn back around into my seat and refuse to listen to what the cousins may have said afer that.

An hour or so later the train stops at my station and I gather my things, very consciously trying _not_ to look at the men that had been sitting behind me. My eyes have been established a traitors, however, and I see this is apparently Darcy and Richard's stop, too.

Dammit.

The moment I step out from the train, I am maimed by my rather exuberant best friend.

"LIZZY!" She shrieks.

"Jeez, what a welcome! Did you miss me terribly?"

Charlotte glares at me, crossing her arms across her chest in a very child-like fashion. "Don't even joke about it. I am _dying_ to be back in the city."

"Dying, eh?"

"Don't mock me!"

I then notice Richard and a morose Darcy out of the corner of my eye, and I turn to introduce Richard to Charlotte. "Hey, Char, this is a guy who sat behind me on the train. Richard, this is Charlotte _Lucas-Collins_."

"Why do say it like that?" Char demands.

"It sounds so weird! Think of it, our company will be Bennet, Gardiner, and Lucas-Collins. That's just…odd."

"I'm glad you hold my name in such esteem."

"You should be."

Charlotte rolls her eyes and turns to address Richard. "Sorry about Lizzy. Her mother dropped her on her head when she was young."

"Don't mock true stories!" I cry.

Char only smirks. Stupid…Char.

"Hiya Charlotte," smiles Richard.

"Hello Charlotte." I flinch when _he_ speaks.

"Well, Lizzy, I hate to be rude, but Wilbur says we need to be at Mrs. de Bourgh's house at 5."

I freeze, once again. "Mrs. de Bourgh?" I repeat.

Char nods.

"Like _Catherine de Bourgh_?"

Char nodded again, confusion on her features. "Yeah, why? Do you know her, Lizzy?"

"Do I ever!" I can't help but glance at Will, who had been staring at me.

I try to smile at him, but I'm pretty sure it just came out as a painful grimace.

* * *

**No, this isn't Lambton already, and Hunsford's already over. Sort of. It's an inbetween.**

**The reason while this is going so fast is because I'm not taking it that seriously; just sort of a thing I write when I'm bored. In fact, I am kind of surprised this story is more popular than the one I am taking seriosuly. XD**

**I'm not sure what to that of _that._**

**Hate it? Love it? Let me know with REVIEWS!!**

**Becca**


	6. Chapter 6

"My darling Elizabeth, how marvelous it is to see you again!" flutters Catherine in her unusually deep baritone voice as she stands up from her chair to greet me. She smiles knowingly—what does she know? Did Will tell her? God, I'm so paranoid.

"Uh, you too?" It's more a question than a statement. I normally get this heavy, knotted feeling in my stomach when I see Catherine. It's certainly not marvelous. I sit down on a expensive-looking sofa as the maid who escorted Wilbur, Char and I to the drawing room is dismissed.

"William," Catherine addresses her nephew—yes, Will had apparently been invited, stupid, "Don't you think Elizabeth looks pretty tonight? I think she does. Very, very pretty, indeed."

Will made a strangled, choking sort of sound. Well! This is a just a clear, fine case of sour grapes, hmm? Seriously, would it _kill_ him to be polite?

…

Scratch that, by the look on his face, it would most definitely kill him.

Catherine noticed.

"William, _please_, be polite!" She leans in conspiringly and whispers as if I can't hear her, "I know you don't like her but she's _loaded_." This comment magically twists Will's face into a more painful grimace. It'd be kind of cool if it stuck that way.

I muffle my laughter: seriously? This is a multi-millionaire widow that's talking! It really is a compliment, I guess.

"And Anne," she says louder, "Do sit up straight!"

Anne is her daughter. She's kind of meek, but that's okay since have Catherine for a mom would most certainly make you meek anyway. Anne also has this ever-present bug that makes her cough every five minutes. I feel bad for her.

"It is very good of you for inviting us to dinner, Mrs. de Bourgh," says Wilbur, but Catherine pays no attention to him.

"And Elizabeth, isn't William handsome in that white shirt of his?"

Well, she's right, but what am I supposed to say? 'Yes, I love William, he is my dream man, and I will love him forever and ever and ever.'

Um, that came out wrong.

So I remain silent.

"How is your mother, Elizabeth? It's been awhile since I last talked to her," asks Catherine.

"She's good," I say, "Rather stressed out. My youngest sister is getting married in two months and hasn't done squat to prepare."

"Hmm, well if William ever gets married I am sure his fiancé will be responsible enough to plan in advance," says Catherine.

Was that a compliment?

"Indeed," quips Charlotte, sardonically smirking at me. Wilbur then takes the opportunity to shower Catherine with praises, distracting her.

Richard stands up from his spot next to Will and walks over to sit next to me.

"So, my good cousin Will here has told me much about you." He smiles at me pleasantly.

I raise an eyebrow. "Really? Well, don't believe any of it," I adopted a sarcastic tone, "William Darcy is my severest critic."

At that Richard raises both of his eyebrows. "So—then, er…"

I smirk at him. "You are exceptionally eloquent."

He glares. "Yeah! Well…Yeah!"

"You are also exceptionally witty in your comebacks."

"Will!" Richard whined, "Liz is too smart for me."

Will just glares at him. If looks could talk, his would screech 'BLOODY MURDER.' And I'm not even kidding.

I cough into my hand guiltily.

"Elizabeth," Catherine commands my attention, "Your mother tells me you play the piano. You **must** play for us." She waves her hand in the general direction of a polish black baby grand piano.

"Must I?" I ask innocently. Charlotte and Richard smother their laughter. Wilbur cringes painfully. Will and Anne remain impassive. Really, I'd think they'd be a perfect couple. Except for the fact that they're cousins and that would just be…ew.

Catherine bristles. "Yes, you _must_."

"Okay, then," I chirp with false enthusiasm. Standing up, I half-skip to the piano and place my two index fingers on the keys.

I play chopsticks very well, you know.

Out of the corner of my eye I can see Catherine turn purple, so as I near toward the end of my little piece I launch right back into a piano version of the song 'Love Story.' Boy, do I love Taylor Swift.

Romeo is throwing pebbles when Richard appears, leaning over and propping his chin up with two fists.

"So, Aunt Cat seems to like you."

I shrug—which, by the way, is quite an accomplishment if you do it while playing the piano.

"Meh," I say noncommittally. "She only wants Darcy to marry me because I rake in lots of leaves and I have a third cousin or something who's the Duke of some Pacific island."

"Nah," says Richard, a dazed, wondering look on his face, "There's _something_ about you—Aunt Cat _likes_ you, and so does Will. D'you know how _rare_ that is? It's like---the Twilight Zone."

His expression is of such bewildered idiocy that it makes me laugh. And speak of the devil; Will is out of the blue standing next to Richard. He's so quiet—he would make a great ninja.

So I say, "Walrus, you should be a ninja."

And it happens, and suddenly I don't think Richard's so far off. A quirk of the eyebrow and a flash of a smile, and my fingers are too long and clumsy and the chorus concludes with an F instead of a G in that C chord.

Catherine must have spotted us, for now she's calling Richard away. He grumbles, and leaves to go talk to her. Will remains, but says nothing. Neither do I. I have nothing to say to him.

"So…how's Jane?" he asks at length.

"Fine. Charlie could've told you that."

"Yeah."

I conclude the piece with a flourish, and then continue with Teardrops On My Guitar. I wonder when I started to like country music.

"What are you playing?"

"Taylor Swift," I answer him.

His brow creases. "Isn't she like that country singer?"

"Yeah."

"But…her music is popular with, er, younger people. My sister—she's in junior high—likes her."

I shrug again, which was a bad decision on my part as I mess it up this time and the music stumbles.

"Your point?" I prompt him, my tone droll.

"Ah, nothing, really." He looks at his shoes.

"So why are you talking to me, if you have no point?" I don't have a clear idea of why I was saying this. "W-I don't understand why you are making this effort to be n-polite to me."

Will must have been inching forward, because now he's really close—a closeness that is very familiar, and I feel panic rising in my throat.

I stop playing. In his eyes I see a strange combination of anger and love, but the love is more dominant.

He can't—he _wouldn't_ do this in front of Catherine, and Richard—Charlotte, stupid Wilbur. He can't. He mustn't—not ever, he can't do this ever.

Will asks again with his eyes. I reply with an abrupt shake of the head.

No.

0000

"Lizzy, I don't understand why your leaving!"

"Pudding," is my eloquent argument. Did I just rhyme?

"Okay, Liz, I was _joking_ back in freshman year when I said that your mom's pudding turned into a pudding monster and would eat you if you didn't spend time with her. _Joking_."

I throw the par of jeans I wore on the train into my suitcase and flip the cover over it, zipping it up in inconsistent jerks.

"S'not just that," I say cryptically and heave the suitcase of my hotel room's bed. I pull up the hand and start to tug it across the room.

"Well, what is it then?" Charlotte asks as she follows me.

Will's face flashes before my eyes. "I don't want to talk about it," I say, opening the door and catching it with my shoulder, only to look up into great big blue eyes that I wish I would never see again.

* * *

**A/N: Ello, readers! It's exactly five o' clock AM East Coast Time and I've been up all night trying out a new video editor I've installed on my computer. I had no idea I had played with it so long...Anyways, I uploaded this a few days ago onto the document manager, but forgot to add it to the story content. Silly me. =P ****This is the first chapter to be written when I wasn't hyper...so, it may or may not be up to standard.**

**So, my new obsession is Dr. Who, and I'd be grateful if you'd check out the fics that I am gradually beignning to post. Also, please, PLEASE, _PLEASE_ vote on the poll on my profile. Thank you.**

**Oh! To conclude extremely long authors note: sorry for taking so long. I have had writers block for the longest time...but Dr. Who got me back on my feet. Be grateful!**

Idiot Jello

**PS: Yes, I've changed my pen name. I like this one better. =)**


	7. Chapter 7

Char has an uncanny ability to slip out of a room like a suave, smooth-talking ninja when she wants to, and that's why I'm in this stupid hotel room, miles away from home with a man that I really, _really_ don't want to talk to.

"Uh, hi."

"Hi," I say back, guardedly, sitting on the edge of the bed.

He doesn't speak, and I'm obviously not to going to prolong this…stupid…thing. Will's pacing, and I realize that he wasn't this nervous before because he was sure that I would accept him. Now he's not, and instead of feeling sorry that I destroyed his self-confidence, I'm glad. Extremely so. I've taken his arrogance and pulled it down a notch. I smile silently to myself, not looking at him.

Will turns suddenly to me. "Elizabeth, I tried, really I did. I tried to not…care about the things you said. I tried to convince myself that you, your opinion didn't matter to me. But I couldn't, it does—I…" He takes a breath. "You have shown me that I'm a flawed man, and I'm prepared to correct this. But—I need your help." Will is kneeling in front of me, grasping my hand. I don't want to look at him, but he holds my gaze. "I don't think I can do this on my own."

I falter.

"I know," he says distractedly, "I think I might've been able to do it, had we never had met on the train, but you where there and—" He inhales again, "I need you, Elizabeth."

There is a pregnant pause, and not just a regular pregnant pause. It's a frickin' Nadya Suleman pause.

"Why?" I ask him, "Why are you doing this?" He just stares at me. "D'you…D'you think that if you put on thi-this big _show _of reforming yourself, then you'll get into my pants?"

"What?! No—"

"That's what it is, isn't it?" I yell, and I'm crying hot tears. "You—you _bastard_!"

"Elizabeth, you don't mean anything that you're saying," he says, eerily calm.

"No—you don't that! You don't know me!" I pause again, making sure I get his attention. "I don't like you," I see him flinch, "You know that."

"Please, Elizabeth—"

"I don't like you," I'm not talking to him, "I don't like you…"

Now his lips are on mine, and it's not like before. It's better than before.

I like him.

I like him.

Oh God, I like him.

0000

Will is the one who pulls back first. I glare at him, pouting. "Now what'd you do that for?" I ask him. Wow, my playfulness has returned rather hastily.

He appears confused, poor Walrus dear. "Wha?"

"Aww," I sigh, a poke the tip of his nose. "You're rather daft for a Walrus, you know!"

Will lets out a breathy, astonished laugh. "You—I thought—"

I sigh one of those sighs that makes your lips sort of make that car-engine sound. "You need to something thinking, Walrus dear. Now, let's look at the situation, mkay? One, you kissed me. Two, I responded and am disappointed that we're still not kissing. So! Our conclusion is either that I'm a wanton slut or that I've decided that I like you. Which is it, then, d'you think?"

A smile breaks out across his face, a smile so wide and happy that it kind of gives me the creeps. Well, no, it's just so different from his usual expression…I think I can get used to it, that smile.

I smile, too, and we're all smiles and I'm happier, right now, than I've ever felt before.

0000

"What made you change your mind?" asks Will.

"I would say it was your kiss, but that'd just boost your ego, and we're working _against _that, you know."

"Really."

"Well, I'm not sure. I think that I've liked you as long as I've hated you, you know. It was a sort of…dual relationship…thingee."

"You make lots of sense."

"I know I do, shut it! What I mean is…that ever since you called me idiotic, I was determined not to like you, but I actually did like you…sort of—but your flaws allowed me to hate you, too. Its weird…confusing…Do you understand any of it?"

"Yeah, sort of."

"Yes…and when you kissed me, it made me realize all of it." I smile at him.

"So it was the kiss?"

Ignoring him. "I was—am, really a bad person. The only reason I hated you was because that you called me idiotic. Sure, that's enough for a mild dislike, something that can be forgotten. But you—I _hated_ you, for no reason, really. You did nothing to me—it would've been better even if I hated you because of a lie someone told me, if I hated you for something you didn't do, but no. I just hated you because that's how I dealt with liking someone who I wanted to dislike."

"It really doesn't matter. I don't care."

I look at him and restore the smile that had faded when I was talking. "I think we're going to be very happy, you know? It's a…vibe."

"You have 'vibe's?"

"Yes, I do, dearest Walrus."

**The End. **

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**A/N: Cue credits and sappy music. Well, that was fun. As always, review please.**

Idiot Jello


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